


Washout

by vaguenotion



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eugene is a good big brother, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Protective Older Brothers, their friendship is really important okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguenotion/pseuds/vaguenotion
Summary: Varian and Eugene are tasked with surveying the old dam. Things go very wrong very quickly.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian
Comments: 17
Kudos: 149





	Washout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glacecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacecakes/gifts).



> I have gotten really rusty at writing concise oneshots. I'm going to use that as my excuse if the ending is rushed. A responsible adult would wait until tomorrow and reread this for edits, but uuh... A responsible adult would also not stay up until 1:30am to write a Tangled fanfic, so we're probably good.
> 
> Sorry this is late, Glacecakes! Hope it satisfies.

The old dam had been “temporary” for as long as Eugene could remember. 

It had been constructed to help irrigate nearby farmland just over twenty years ago, a fallible wall of tar-soaked timbers that was only ever meant to stay standing until a permanent stone dam could be built behind it. But then the queen had fallen ill, and a flower had to be tracked down; a baby had been born, and the kingdom had to celebrate; a princess had been kidnapped, and after that, nothing else mattered.

So the temporary dam lapsed into permanent residency in the gorge. But the forces of time and nature wouldn’t abide it much longer, especially not after all the haphazard patchwork fixes that had happened over the years. Leaks were frequent and varied in severity, and after a harsh storm, people would report ominous creaking coming from the timber supports that held it in place.

The good news? Not only was the queen healthy, and the princess back, and order restored, but Corona now had a Royal Engineer. And while Eugene didn’t always relish the more bureaucratic duties of his role as Captain of the Guard, he wasn’t going to complain about an afternoon outdoors with the other half of Team Awesome.

Varian had spent the entire ride to the dam criticizing the original blueprints. “Sandstone,” he had declared, looking at Eugene as if that was all he needed to say. “For a dam! Honestly, thank the  _ Sun _ this thing didn’t get built when it was supposed to, it would have been a  _ disaster!” _

The day was overcast, cold for the season, and the threat of rain hung over them like a promise. Eugene didn’t care; he was just glad to be out of the castle, and away from the monotony of drilling new recruits. Building a dam was far more interesting than watching young men and women struggle to get through an obstacle course.

Varian, on the other hand, seemed more offended by the project than excited. “It’s not even the best placement for a dam,” he was saying now, gesturing angrily at the sight of the sad leaking thing before them. They had stopped on the flat muddy expanse at the foot of the dam, their boots squelching into soft, wet soil. “There’s a natural bottleneck a mile upstream that would have required less material! But if I try to explain that to the council, they’ll tell me about how  _ actually, _ they’re not capable of making mistakes, because surprise! They’re actually experts in structural engineering, and let’s not forget that I’m permanently twelve years old and also a criminal, so god forbid they allow that I might  _ know what I’m talking about--” _

Eugene would be lying if he said he didn’t find it amusing. Varian had a good work ethic and would meet most requests for projects without hesitation, but he struggled with the amount of oversight that the council insisted on. For someone who had grown up being left to his own devices, the alchemist was still learning how to work within the bounds of someone else’s expectations. 

Eugene could relate.

Varian ran a hand down his face and turned toward Max, who’s bulky saddlebags carried the surveying tools Varian would need for the assessment. The horse, ever dutiful, turned so that his flank was facing the young man, offering up the bags and their contents.

Eugene planted his hands on his hips and craned his neck to look up at the dam above them. “Lotta good memories here,” he announced to no one in particular. “Lotta, uh, near-death experiences. But the good kind, you know.”

Max huffed at him, likely remembering the pursuit from the Snuggly Duckling on the first day that Eugene had met Rapunzel. The section of the dam that had collapsed that day was now rebuilt, the timbers noticeably fresher than the other sections. 

“Hey, it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Eugene replied, shrugging. “I mean, who’da thunk it, but here we are.”

Max whinnied in irritation, but remained still as Varian rustled around in the saddlebags. After a moment, he withdrew what looked like a sextant. He paused only to rub at the lens of the device before he turned and began to pick his way across the muddy ground toward one of the dam’s support beams.

“And anyway,” Eugene continued, planting his hands on his hips, “we did the kingdom a favor by pulling that part of the dam down. If it broke so easily, it was going to do it on its own eventually. We got it out of the way for you.”

The support beam that Varian approached was huge, an entire tree trunk angled at about forty-five degrees to help prop up the dam. Around it’s base, erosion had created a small pool of water that Varian didn’t bother wading into. Rather, he hopped his way around to the base of the beam and squatted in the mud, peering up the length of the beam through the lens of his contraption.

Max was not paying the alchemist any attention. He yanked his hooves from the mud and stomped up to Eugene, huffing directly into his face in disagreement. The lack of repentance on the ex-thief's face was clearly bothering him. 

“Well we’re fixing it  _ now,” _ Eugene argued, gesturing toward Varian. “Is it not penance enough that I have to be standing in this swamp right now, helping?”

“You’re not doing anything,” Varian corrected flatly, his voice carrying back to them across the distance he’d covered. He adjusted a few knobs on the device until he was satisfied with what he’d observed. Standing to his full height, Varian frowned up at the dam as if it had personally insulted him. Then, in a quieter voice meant mostly for himself, he muttered, “This is going to take a lot of work.”

“Excuse you,” Eugene called back, “I’m doing my  _ job. _ Assisting the Royal Engineer in improving the infrastructure of this kingdom is hard work, even if I’m technically just here for moral support.”

Max sniffed, sounding concerningly sarcastic for a horse. 

“Nobody asked you, Pony Boy,” Eugene warned in a low voice, pointing at him. Max’s nostrils flared back.

Before they could square off, Varian’s voice interrupted them from thirty feet away. “Max,” he called, “when those guards were out here to observe leaks last week, did they report that one?”

Eugene spread his arms wide. “You’re asking the  _ horse? _ I’m the captain!”

Both of his companions ignored him. Max started forward in the mud, toward where Varian stood staring up at the dam. He was fixated on a specific spot, his expression gradually morphing from concern to what looked like alarm. 

“That one, there,” he said, gesturing vaguely up at the dam. He didn’t need to be specific; the leak in question looked more like a waterfall, pouring out between several of the horizontal logs about forty feet above them. It tumbled into the largest of the creeks that snaked away from the base of the dam, but where the other leaks were merely dribbles, this one was a muddy torrent. 

Max’s ears flew forward in alarm. Varian had taken a step back as he started to realize how bad the leak truly was. “We should, uh… move,” he suggested. 

Max lowered his head, bumping right into the alchemist to signal him to get onto his back. Varian grabbed at the saddle and scrambled up. 

Back at the bottom of the embankment, Eugene felt the spike in their concern. The playful energy he’d been maintaining evaporated. “That bad,” he asked needlessly, turning to his own horse and climbing up into the saddle. 

Varian replied. He said  _ something, _ that much was clear, but Eugene never heard it. A loud, low groan filled the air, followed by several sharp pops. Max went from a canter to a full-on run, instinct driving him toward higher ground. Eugene pulled on the reins, but the horse below him didn’t need prompting; she was already running.

Eugene didn’t see it, so much as he heard it. The section of the dam with the large leak buckled, timbers pushed apart by a surge of brown water as though they weighed no more than twigs. To call the sound a roar didn’t do it justice; it was so loud and so resonant that it was more like a feeling, deep and quaking in his chest. As the horses struggled up the side of the muddy embankment to get out of the way, Eugene chanced a look over his shoulder.

A wall of water was surging from the ruptured dam. Massive timbers were being pulled along in the current, pitching and kareening with lethal force. With each passing breath, the breach in the dam widened, pulled apart by the ever-increasing torrent of water.

Seconds. It had only taken seconds for the leak that Varian had spotted to become a disaster. The frenzied thought crossed his mind, that if Max had not gone out to where the alchemist stood, Varian would be crushed beneath the surge of water and timber. How had it happened so fast? One minute, Eugene was picking a friendly fight with Max, and the next, they were running for their lives.

“Varian,” he called over the noise, looking wildly toward his companions. Max had ended up about fifteen yards down the bluff, nearly as high up at Eugene and his mount, but dealing with more mud. He must have chosen to run up the embankment at an angle for better traction, but now the horse found himself in a sloppy section that was sucking his hooves deeper and deeper with each step, slowing their escape. 

On Max’s saddle, Varian turned toward Eugene and shouted something back, but the roar of the water was too loud for the captain to hear it. The kid looked how Eugene felt; horrified but focused, the need to get out of danger more important than the instinct of fear. 

Eugene pulled on the reins to try and encourage the horse below him to head toward Max, but she was young and frightened, and had no interest in wading into the mud. It was clear why; the muddier the bluff got beneath Max’s hooves, the more unstable it was made by the water rushing by below them. 

“Come on,” Eugene demanded, more authority and force in his voice than he’d ever used with this new horse. She startled, her training kicking in just enough for her to cross half the distance to their fallen companions before she lost her nerve and bucked again, stopping short. Eugene kept wrestling the reins; it was hard enough to keep her from bolting altogether, let alone to get her closer. He had half a mind to dismount and run there himself, but when he looked up from his struggle with the horse, his mind went blank with panic.

Before his eyes, Eugene watched as the ground beneath Max and Varian began to slide. It had already been mucky, but with the base of the bluff being washed away, whatever structural integrity it had was crumbling. Suddenly, Max went from climbing the hill to sliding down it, increasingly desperate as they lost what little ground they’d made. On his back, Varian gripped the saddle with white knuckles, looking wildly over his shoulder at the muddy rapids below. 

The alchemist twisted, freeing one hand to grapple with the buckles and straps of the saddlebags. Eugene’s heart leapt into his throat, afraid that at any second he would see the kid fall, but Varian held fast, struggling to get the extra weight free so that Max had a better chance of climbing back up the hill. The survey equipment could be replaced; they could not.

He got one bag free. It fell into the mud and tumbled down the slope, vanishing into the torrent below. The worst of the logs from the dam had already been swept away; now the water was churning with white-capped rapids, brown as mud and raging along. 

Another saddle bag, this one larger, fell free from the twist of straps and buckles. Max belted out a sound of determination and dug his front hooves in, temporarily interrupting their gradual slide toward the rapids. Below Eugene, the young horse reached the top of the bluff and bucked in a panic, a frustrating distraction from the scene unfolding below them. No matter what he tried, Eugene couldn’t calm her down.

He had to change gears. They had no time; if he didn’t do something, he’d lose both Max and Varian to the rapids. 

At his hip, a coil of rope hung nearly forgotten on the saddle. Eugene grabbed it up, frantically wrapping some slack around his arm. He shouted for Max over the roar of water, waiting only a fraction of a second before he reared back and flung the coil toward the struggling horse.

It landed in the mud with a slap, only a few feet shy of his target. Still, it was a more attainable goal than the top of the bluff, and Max struggled toward it with renewed purpose. On his back, Varian was wrestling with another saddlebag, his eyes turning wildly up the slope toward Eugene with one clear, desperate plea:

_ Help. _

Max’s teeth found the end of the rope. As soon as he had a fair grip on it, Eugene stopped fighting the mare beneath him, letting her back away from the bluff. In doing so, she began to pull Max up, though her own hooves sank into the soft ground as they went. It was all Eugene could do to stay on the saddle, to keep his focus on the rope coiled around his arm, and the weight of trying to pull Max up.

Relief and hope pumped into Eugene’s chest. Thank god, he thought, as Max managed to regain one foot, and then another. The mud beneath him was growing deeper and runnier, but at least now he had something to grip, something to keep them from falling into the raging waters below, and so long as they could keep backing up, they could--

The earth slid. There was no other way to describe it, let alone understand it; before Eugene’s eyes, the patch of mud beneath Max and Varian began to slide toward the water as though it were one solid piece. The torrent below had washed away too much of the embankment. 

It was a landslide. 

_ “Varian,” _ Eugene shouted, louder and harsher than he ever had before, as Max all but flattened into the mud and slid toward the water. The rope pulled harshly where it was twisted around Eugene’s arm. The man felt something give, something in his shoulder that wasn’t  _ supposed _ to give. A pop, a flare of hot pain, his body being ripped from the saddle below him. He was pulled onto the muddy ground at the top of the bluff and dragged several feet, before all at once the rope uncoiled from around his arm and flew away. 

Head spinning, Eugene scrambled after it, reaching with his injured arm to no avail. Over the edge of the bluff, Max’s white mane vanished, sliding down with the earth and out of sight. 

Eugene heard Varian scream, and forgot about his arm. He forgot about the mud, the water, the breach in the dam that was continuing to widen as the man-made lake behind it emptied. Eugene scrambled over the muddy ground, desperate to reach the edge, to look down, to see where his friends had gone, danger and risk be damned.

The sight he came upon when he reached the edge of the bluff was numbing in how horrifying it was. There was no more bank, only a bite out of the earth that crumbled more and more until Eugene had no choice but to back up. In the rushing waters below, an arch of white burst from the torrent, Max’s powerful neck twisting as the horse shook his eyes clear of water. He was treading, being pulled downstream faster than Eugene could comprehend. The horse thrashed, struggling to stay above the surface.

And there was no Varian.

Eugene was up and running, only to try and keep up with Max. His own mount was long gone, having bolted for higher drier ground as soon as her rider had been pulled from the saddle. It was all Eugene could do to try and keep up with the current, his legs pumping hard, mud splattering with each step. His eyes never left the water.

No Varian, no Varian, no Varian--

A head burst from the water, arms reaching into empty air as if their owner hadn’t been sure exactly where the surface was. Varian emerged coughing and rasping, the current throwing him around with such force that he couldn’t hope to swim against it. It was enough just to try and keep his head above the surface, Eugene could see that even from the top of the embankment. 

“There he is,” Eugene yelled, throwing his uninjured arm in the direction that Varian had emerged in. Max, who was closer to the embankment, turned and whinnied. He was larger, stronger; he had at least some chance of stabilizing himself in the water. Without any further prompting, Max began to struggle across the current toward the alchemist.

Varian thrashed an arm and disappeared beneath the surface, overtaken by a swell of water. Eugene screamed his name, stumbling in the mud as he ran. Only by some miracle did he manage to keep his legs under him, his body moving forward in a controlled fall until he was running again. He never looked away from the water.

Max reached the rough area where Varian had just been seen, before the horse dove. All that was left on the surface was the bubbling, swirling indication that something, some _ one, _ had just been there. 

Eugene did not stop running. He had nothing else to do--to throw himself into the water without a clear idea of what he was swimming toward would only create another victim. As it was, he could hardly focus, could hardly think. The only thought was of Varian, of the small figure who had taken a breath of air too long ago, had been submerged for too long, where was he, where were they, what if they never came back up, what if--

Max surfaced. Draped across his back was a small form, barely recognizable in the chaos of the rapids, and Eugene changed directions, running at an angle toward where he guessed Max would reach the embankment. The mud there was still awful, but not much further ahead, a few large boulders jutted out of the bluff, offering stability. 

“Here,” he shouted needlessly, as if he could help by directing Max toward the rocks. The horse had barely enough control to swim at an angle, let alone aim. On his back, Varian slid, too limp to hold on by his own power. Eugene tried not to think about what that meant.

He reached the rocks before Max. The horse was breathing hard, his head bobbing back and forth with effort as his legs struck out through the water, propelling him forward. Only a few feet in front of the boulders, Max suddenly lifted upward, his hooves finding muddy ground beneath the surface. 

The motion dislodged Varian, who by then was only draped over his back. The alchemist slid into the water, drifting only a foot before Max reared around and snatched the back of his vest in his teeth. 

Eugene slid to a stop in the mud, his arms spread wide, his heart in his throat. Max struggled toward him, dragging Varian through the water. The alchemist’s head lulled; his eyes were closed. 

“Here,” Eugene gasped again, daring to step foot into the water. It came up to his knee immediately, the current powerful enough even at that depth to nearly pull him over, but he grabbed the reins of Max’s saddle for support and reached with his bad arm for Varian.

As soon as Eugene had a grip around Varian’s shirt, Max dropped the alchemist. He instead grabbed the back of Eugene’s uniform, letting Eugene grab Varian with both hands while the horse valiantly pulled them up the bank. Further from the dam, the ground was more stable, though only slightly less muddy. 

Through sheer force of will, Max climbed the embankment, dragging Eugene who dragged Varian. Only in the last few feet did Eugene get his feet planted well enough for him to hoist Varian up out of the mud, up off the slope, and finally onto solid ground.

The three of them collapsed, Max keeling onto his side before struggling to right himself again. Eugene turned Varian onto his back, driven by a panic so powerful it erased all other concern. He couldn’t even feel the pain in his shoulder anymore. 

“Varian,” he gasped, cupping the kid’s face. Varian didn’t respond, eyes closed as if in sleep, and Eugene hesitated only for a moment before he turned his focus downward, planting the heels of his palms on the middle of Varian’s torso and  _ pushing _ . 

“Wake up,” he demanded. “Come on, Varian,  _ wake up!” _

It only took three pumps. Suddenly, the alchemist convulsed in the mud, filthy water bursting from his mouth. Eugene rolled him, not missing a beat; as soon as he was on his side, Varian vomited more water, hacking and spluttering as his lungs and stomach struggled to empty what they’d taken in. 

Blood was blooming down the back of Varian’s neck, runny and orange from water. A head injury, somewhere hidden under his hair. His vest and shirt were torn, but not from being dragged by Eugene or Max; he had hit something, or something had hit  _ him, _ and the thought did nothing to help Eugene’s mental spiral. Images of those timbers flying through the rapids fractured across his mind’s eye, huge and lethally fast and splintered into sharp spears. 

Behind him, Max was struggling back onto his feet. He shook off, sending cold water everywhere, but Eugene hardly noticed. He tracked his eyes down the length of Varian’s body as the alchemist rasped and coughed on his side, wondering if anything was broken, if anything was bleeding inside.

His eyes found Varian’s leg, and stopped.

The pant leg was ripped, and so was his calf. A section of flesh hung at an angle, like someone had taken a knife and tried to carve it. The blood was bright, and red, and sluggish in the mud, mixing into a macabre puddle, showing no signs of slowing.

Eugene’s stomach flipped, and he looked away. Varian groaned, breathing hard, struggling to sit up. 

“Eugene,” he rasped, turning disoriented eyes over his shoulder, moving to turn and sit on the ground, his injured leg shifting in the bloody muddy puddle. Eugene reached without thinking, cupping Varian’s face, turning his eyes up and away. Startled, the alchemist reached up and grabbed at Eugene’s wrist for balance. “What are you--”

“It’s okay,” Eugene interrupted. Varian’s face wasn’t tight with pain--he only looked confused, out of breath and panicked and disoriented. No pain.

Shock.

“It’s okay,” the captain repeated, realizing that Varian might not know his leg was even injured. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Yeah,” Varian replied weakly, swallowing and trying to fight Eugene’s grip on his face. Max appeared beside them, ears upright with alarm at the gruesome injury on Varian’s leg. 

The horse’s reaction seemed to be the first sign for Varian that something was wrong. He frowned in confusion, trying once again to turn his attention toward his leg, but Eugene held his head in place, keeping the alchemist turned toward him. “Don’t look at it,” Eugene said carefully, sternly, “look at me. You’ll be okay. We’re gunna get back to the castle and get fixed up, okay? It’ll be okay.”

“What?” Varian frowned a little deeper, his confusion only growing. His dilated pupils seemed to have trouble focusing on Eugene for too long. “What do you mean?”

This time, in his weak attempt at getting away from Eugene’s hands, Varian reached up and hung his weight on Eugene’s shoulder in order to correct his own balance and sit upright. 

Eugene had forgotten about it, in the chaos of everything. Had forgotten about the rope yanking him from the saddle, had forgotten about the pop in his shoulder and the temporary pain that followed, but as soon as Varian leaned into it, Eugene couldn't ignore it any longer. He gasped, folding under the alchemist’s fumbling hand to try and get away from the pain, to try and lessen the surprising agony in his shoulder. He dropped Varian, pulling away only momentarily, only by a few inches. 

But it was enough for Varian to twist free and look down at his leg. 

It didn’t look like he recognized what he was seeing, at first. Varian stared blankly at the open injury, at the puddle of red mud growing around it. For a beat, he only blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

“Oh,” he said, so softly that Eugene couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just an exhale, before Varian’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped.

Eugene only just barely managed to catch him, his shoulder still screaming with pain. “Max,” he grounded out, ragged and exhausted, “we need to get him to-- we need to get him on your back, and then I can…”

The captain of the guard trailed off. Beyond Max’s legs, far down the bank near the cliff, were people. Red coats and golden helmets, but also the non-descript neutrals of civilian clothing. People who had heard the dam break, or seen the water level drop. People rushing toward them now, distant as they still were. 

Eugene adjusted Varian’s weight to try and ease some of his own pain, holding the alchemist close. The adrenaline that had carried him this far was fading, or at least, changing. He wrapped his good arm around Varian, some distant thought about keeping him warm coming and going.

Max huffed at him and took off running toward the approaching guard, too impatient to stand there and wait. Kneeling in bloody mud, cradling Varian to his chest, Eugene watched him go with a spreading numbness in his chest. 

“Hang on,” the man muttered, distantly aware of the tremor that was beginning to spread across his body. 

Hang on.

-

“Ow ow ow  _ ow, please stop!” _

Varian’s voice was high with panic and agony, and Eugene wasn’t sure he could stand much more of it. The kid had come around not long after passing out, once the chaos of more people had surrounded them. They had both been whisked to the castle as fast as a cart could reasonably go, their journey a blur of Varian’s pained moans and the view of what was left of the dam and the lake above it. Just a gorge, now. Just a muddy, ruined scar in the earth. 

Some of the guards had wrapped Varian’s leg, to keep pressure on it for the ride. When they’d finally gotten to the castle and someone had rushed out to help them in, Varian had seen how soaked with red the fabric had become, and he’d blacked out again.

Now, sitting on a bed in the infirmary, Eugene desperately wished the kid was still unconscious. Even with a privacy screen and several beds between them, the sounds of Varian in pain and pleading for mercy were so deeply unsettling that it was all Eugene could do to not run out of the room then and there. 

His clothes were caked in mud, damp and filthy and ruining the bedding beneath him. It seemed that anywhere he looked, he could see the blood on his pant legs from where he’d held Varian. The visual did not help.

His arm was in a sling, having required very little care. After all, it had popped back into the socket on its own. So Eugene sat, under orders from the head physician to not move from that spot, and while Eugene knew he would only be in the way, it was an agony all on its own to sit there and do nothing but listen. 

_ “Please stop,” _ Varian gasped again, a keen of pain squeezing out of his exhausted lungs. An unfamiliar voice requested someone go fetch some ether, and Eugene could hear footsteps scurry across the room and back again. 

Another shout of pain, this one aborted by Varian himself. He wasn’t  _ trying _ to sound like a torture victim, Eugene knew, but damn if it wasn’t a convincing show. The captain of the guard bounced his knee in agitation, barely able to contain himself, barely able to stay in place even when Varian’s cries softened and fell off, even when the physician’s old voice said “That’s enough for now. Continue with the antiseptic.”

For a tense few minutes, Eugene stared at the privacy screen beside his bed, and saw mud. He saw a raging current and hanging flesh and Varian’s pale face, and Eugene sat and waited for him to cry out again, held his breath and waited to hear Varian scream. One more excuse and he would get up, would storm over there and shove the doctor’s away just so they would stop hurting his friend, just so the kid would stop screaming--

But Varian wasn’t shouting anymore, wasn’t making any sound. Unconscious, no doubt, knocked out with ether and lying limp and muddy on the bed where they were working on his leg. Eugene gripped the sheets with his good hand and closed his eyes tight, willing the image of that injury away, wishing he could unsee the way that blood mixes with mud mixes with puddle water. 

“Eugene,” a voice rushed, a release of stress sounding out his name. He looked up, snapping his eyes open to find Rapunzel sliding into the private space surrounding his bed. Her arms were around him immediately, only barely mindful of his shoulder as she pulled him into a fierce hug. “Oh, Eugene, are you okay?”

With his good arm, Eugene hugged her back. It was a thoughtless gesture, like a child reaching for their security blanket in their sleep. She was warm against him, uncaring for how muddy he was, a solid reminder that Eugene was present in the infirmary and not on that embankment. He leaned into it with everything he had.

“I’m fine,” he told her, his voice distant in his own ears. Warm fingers cupped his cheek and tilted his gaze up to meet Rapunzel’s. Her face was drawn, grim with worry and dizzy with relief. She didn’t look like she believed him, but she seemed to choose to, anyway.

“What happened,” she asked, lowering onto the bed beside him with her fingers trailing on his cheek. She smoothed her thumb over a splotch of dried mud on his jaw, rubbing it away. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “The dam just… broke. I think Varian saw the danger just before it happened. If he hadn’t, he’d be…”

Rapunzel lowered her eyes to the sling that held Eugene’s arm against his chest. She took up his good hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. She said nothing, and neither did he. 

Though they didn’t intend to, the two of them sat perched on the side of the bed for nearly an hour. They didn’t speak, didn’t give voice to the worries that surrounded them. It wasn’t enough just to say “no one died”. It wasn’t enough to say that it could have been worse. But Rapunzel’s company, and their shared silence, seemed to hold Eugene at bay. 

When a nurse finally stepped into the space, Eugene had just about convinced himself that he should try to get some sleep. Her arrival brought a new surge of adrenaline forward, her senses sharpening. His full attention zeroed in on the blood smeared on her apron. 

Rapunzel stood. “How is he,” she asked, visibly trying to remain calmer than she was. Eugene guessed he wasn’t the only one who had just been struck with a rush of panic. 

The nurse wiped her hands with her apron and untied it behind her, removing it, along with any evidence of Varian’s blood. Carefully, she looked between them, considering her words. Before Eugene’s paper-thin patience could wear out, she spoke. 

“He hasn’t lost the leg yet,” she answered softly. “If we can stave off infection, there’s a good chance he’ll keep it.”

The room tilted.  _ Keep it? _ Eugene had seen the injury in full, but it hadn’t even occurred to him that the damage might be so severe. He felt nauseous. “What?”

Rapunzel placed a hand on his good shoulder and gave it a squeeze, not once looking away from the nurse. “Can we see him?”

“He’s still under the ether,” the woman said, shaking her head. “But soon. I’ve come to tell you to rest.”

She looked at Eugene pointedly when she said this, and the man bristled, his ears still ringing from her report. When he said nothing, the nurse stepped aside, gesturing for both of them to follow. “You need to wash up and put on dry clothes. I’ll change the bedding while you’re gone.”

He stared at her. Some part of him wanted to protest. Hadn’t she heard Varian screaming? Hadn’t she just been smeared in his blood? Why did it matter if Eugene was muddy or not?

But the woman stared back, her expression set, inarguable, and Eugene realized that his resistance to leave Varian’s side was only causing more problems for the people trying to help the kid. 

Stiffly, he rose to his feet. His body ached from top to bottom, for reasons he couldn’t begin to pin down. His shoulder protested every movement. Without a word, Eugene followed Rapunzel out, letting her lead him by the hand out of the infirmary in the direction of the nearest washroom. 

On the way, he tried to look for Varian, but the bed where all the pleading and yelling had come from was cordoned off with more privacy screens. 

He’d have to wait.

-

For a while, the only thing Varian thought about were his goggles. 

They were lying on the bedside table, muddy and familiar. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why, or where he was, or how he had gotten there. Only that his goggles were there, and familiar, and it was a comfort to see them.

Gradually, as he slipped in and out of consciousness, the flickering mirage of his goggles began to raise more questions. His throat hurt, his diaphragm ached, his stomach felt more fragile than it had in years. But more concerning than any of that was the resounding  _ nothing _ from the rest of his body. No pain, no temperature, only the sense that he was heavy and immovable. 

Varian eventually came to realize that he was lying in a bed in a white, clean place. At some point, the undefined shape of a person had leaned over him, their voice muffled and distant in his ears. They touched his face and said something to him, but he didn’t reply. He only looked back to find his goggles, ensuring that they were still there. Familiar. Reassuring.

For a while, he slept. It was dreamless, except for the sound of churning rapids echoing in his ears, which sometimes sounded more like a heartbeat. 

And then, so abruptly that it came with a wash of cold alarm, Varian was awake. He could hear the low murmur of voices that accompanied the infirmary, could smell the chemical antiseptic, could feel his body again head to toe, every ache and pain. 

His leg was a tight, constant throb, as though it were clenched in a vice. His head wasn’t faring much better. He drew in a ragged breath, and groaned. 

“Varian,” Eugene gasped somewhere to his left, followed promptly by the clatter of chair legs as the man fumbled to correct his balance from where he’d startled. He appeared over Varian, looming and familiar, just like his goggles. “Can you hear me?”

The alchemist stared at him for a few beats, trying to process all of the memories that were swarming to the front of his mind. Just when it was taking him too long--just when Eugene looked like he was about to give up and sit back down--Varian took a careful breath. 

“The dam broke,” he answered flatly, his voice breaking unhelpfully around the words. 

A blurt of laughter escaped Eugene’s throat, more surprise than anything else. “Yeah,” he agreed, “glad you’ve been following along.”

Varian carefully reached his hands up to his face, rubbing at his eyes to clear them of sleep. His mouth was dry, and tasted like chemicals. “I think I drowned…?”

“You sure tried,” Eugene agreed, releasing a long breath and easing back into his chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I drowned,” Varian replied evenly, gently settling his hands onto his middle. Every inch of him felt bruised, but the memory of being in that current was a jumbled mess. He had no idea what was injured and what wasn’t.

Well, except for his leg. Varian felt a roll of lightheadedness wash over him at the memory, and he was quick to push the thought away. He rolled his head to the side and looked to his goggles, ever present beside him. 

A hand closed around one of his, large and warm and calloused. Eugene squeezed his fingers. “You’re going to be fine,” he said, his voice ringing with such certainty that Varian immediately believed him. “And you’re not going to be working on that damn dam anymore.”

There was a pause, before the words settled in and Varian blinked. “... Wait, what?”

Eugene’s fingers tightened reassuringly. “It’s not like anyone is going to make you work on it after what happened. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to  _ swim _ again after--”

“I’m  _ going _ to finish the dam, Eugene.”

The man’s eyebrows hopped upwards, his head snapping back a fraction. He must have been expecting relief, that his words would be a comfort, not for Varian to look at him like he’d just grown a second head.

“This kingdom clearly can’t be left alone to build a dam on their own,” Varian said. “I mean, look what happened.”

There was a pause, in which Eugene’s face was impossible to read. He was studying Varian so closely that with each passing second, the alchemist felt increasingly like shrinking into the sheets and disappearing. Then, all at once, he exhaled and dropped the tension from his shoulders, forcing himself to unclench. “How about a compromise. You draft up the blueprints and observe from a very far, very  _ safe _ distance, and I don’t go grey before thirty.”

Varian looked back at him warily, eyelids already growing heavy as fatigue rolled back in like the tide. If it was anyone else… Well, maybe Rapunzel. But if it was anyone else, Varian would have been offended, annoyed, argumentative. As it stood, the level of overprotectiveness was more than welcome after what had just happened. 

“Deal,” he said quietly, rotating his hand where it was clasped in Eugene’s so that the two of them could shake on it. “... I still can’t believe they were going to use sandstone.”

“One more thing,” Eugene interrupted, holding up his hand to signal that he wasn’t finished. “You have to promise that you’ll put up with my big brother-ing  _ without complaint _ until you’re healed. Until I can process what happened, I… Look, if you want to try to make this dam happen, you’re going to have to put up with me mothering you until you’re either back in perfect shape or I can no longer remember what your leg looked like.”

Varian winced at the memory, but it didn’t distract him enough for him to not notice how close Eugene was to being openly vulnerable in front of him. 

He’d only just come around to proper consciousness. And the plain truth of it was that Varian hadn’t processed what had happened at  _ all. _ But the look on Eugene’s face was so sincere, so full of concern, that to deny him his request would have been impossible.

So Varian offered him a small, fragile smile, and settled back into the pillow beneath his bandaged head. “I don’t think I could stop you from being a big brother if I tried,” he answered softly. 

Eugene relaxed, and smiled. “Nope. You could not.”


End file.
